


The Road to Hell

by skund



Category: DCU - All Star Batman and Robin
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-27
Updated: 2010-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:18:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skund/pseuds/skund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman's new conscript into the Mission has caused a number of repercussions. Superman learns that good intentions will only get you so far. Set during All Star Batman and Robin #6, slight spoilers for #7-9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head while in the shower one morning. For the love of god, kill me now. I tried to write Clark as Miller portrays him, but I just couldn't do it. The man has a brain, people! As soon as this was done all my muses were taken out the back and shot.

Bruce Wayne sat at the breakfast table as the sun slowly sank towards the horizon, lazily sipping from his coffee cup. His attention was captured by the afternoon edition of the Daily Planet in his hand, though newspapers from all the major east coast cities littered the table top. On page ten was an article on mismanagement of Metropolis' waste disposal service, byline Clark Kent. Bruce snorted. It was a hack story on even a slow news week. Considering the current news scene he was surprised it even made it to print. Every front page story in front of him screamed 'BAT', accompanied by blurry photos of dark shadows. That was the news, and had been ever since he'd grabbed that kid from the circus after his parents were murdered. Seemed to cause quite an uproar. It didn't help that that reporter Vicky Vale had been there too, with that damn camera of hers. It'd seemed like a good idea to ask her to the circus. The woman had a damn big mouth... among other things, and being seen with her would boost his playboy image to no end. It was convenient too, letting the playboy be seen out on the town while allowing him to watch the boy up close. 

Bruce had first seen him almost a year ago, and had been watching him ever since. The little acrobat was agile, fast and smart to boot. He was perfect. A real solider. Bruce had been prepared to wait years for that perfection, let him grow into some muscle. But then everything had changed. Sudden gunfire from the darkness, a pool of red spreading on the ground, blood spattered across his face and the *tink* *tink* of pearls hitting the paveme... No. No pearls. Just the pounding silence of a horrified audience and the tiny gaps from the boy, all alone in the crowd. 

But not alone, because Bruce had seen then that the boy was now his, in his world and in his war. It hadn't taken much to slip out of the confusion, grab his suit from the car and catch the bastard who'd pulled the trigger. Grayson would get justice. He'd make damn sure of that. A wry smile crossed his face at the recollection of that night. 

He put the Daily Planet aside, unconcerned. Stupid as he was, Kent knew better than to even mention bats in print after that little talk they'd had. Bruce knew exactly who was behind that garish red and blue spandex, but Superman didn't even have a clue who lurked behind the cowl. Bruce held all the cards, and was damn pleased Kent knew it. Good boy. 

He reached for the Gotham Gazette. They'd run that photo of him on the front page again, the one Vicki snapped the night he took the boy. The kid looked terrified, dangling from his fist. Christ, he was small. But strong. Or, at least he would be once Bruce was done with him. Speaking of the boy, he should probably go down to the Cave and see if he was still alive. Alfred had been feeding the boy, damn him. How are kids supposed to learn anything if you went around feeding them? As he stood and tossed the Gazette down it fell open to another page, revealing an article that hadn't been in the morning edition. It was by Vicki Vale. So, she's up and kicking again. He knew she would be. He might've been a bit... intense in his ram-raid attack on the cops that took the boy. But he achieved his objective. Besides, how was he to know Alfred and Vicki were trailing the police car? If she didn't want to get hurt she should have damn well gotten out of the way. In any case, she's a tenacious thing and he'd sent the Boy Scout to fetch that French doctor when the local hospital wasn't going to save her. She lived. And apparently recovered enough to get back into the thick of things. Her headline leapt off the page at him, 'THE BAT ENIGMA'. Right. Enigma. What was he, a fucking Rubik's Cube? The woman must've hit her head harder than he thought. Then again, he kinda liked the word. Enigma. Enigmatic. Yeah, he could be enigmatic. Sure, why not. Bruce drained his coffee cup, set it on the table and walked out the kitchen door. 

\-----

A soft knock at the door disturbed Vicki from her work. With a small sigh of irritation she saved her work on her laptop and covered it with a different window. “Yes?”

The office door opened, revealing a large form. “Miss Vale?” 

“Yes?” 

“Hi, I'm Clark Kent.” The figure stepped through the doorway and Vicki could get a look at him. Thick black glasses, bad suit, bad posture. “I'm a reporter for the Daily Planet, over in Metropolis” he continued “and I was wondering if I could talk with you about your recent... work.” 

She considered him for a moment, then motioned to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Sit down, Mr Kent.” From across the desk she could get a better look at the man. Those awful glasses hid one hell of a pair of blue eyes. She eyed him up and down. Whatever's under than dreary suit could be promising, too. She slipped on a smile and leaned forwards slightly. “How can I help a colleague?” 

For half a second Kent gave her an unreadable look, then readjusted his glasses and looked her in the eyes. “First, I just wanted to say I'm glad to see you're up and about again. That was a pretty nasty accident. Actually, it's that night I wanted to talk to you about, the Batman kidnapping.” 

“Thankyou for your concern, Mr. Kent.” she purred, “That night changed my life, I don't think I'll ever regret it. I certainly was lucky to get that shot of him with the boy. Damn good photo it is too.” With any luck it would snag her an award. That would really shaft Kathy from the society pages, the damn tart. 

“Oh, yeah. It's... great.” Kent fiddled with his glasses again. The man really should get them looked at. “I'm more interested in the man, er, the Bat, rather. What impression did you get from him?”

Vicky arched an eyebrow. “What makes you think I have any insight? I only took his picture.” 

“Well, you must've been pretty close to get such a shot.”

She shrugged. “Telephoto lenses are amazing these days, I got a clear shot and a moonlight night. It's luck. That's all.” She glared at her rather nosy guest. This was her damn story, and she wasn't spilling it to this schlub. Especially since she'd just gotten that Olsen boy to give her the Planet's files on the Bat and the Graysons. She had the story of the century in the bag, all she needed was some time... and the media to keep up this batman hype. 

“Well, your article in today's Gazette about him is a bit more than luck. 'The Bat Enigma'. It's an... interesting point of view, compared to most of the press. You act like he's something other than a madman.” 

“Well, I'm not 'most of the press', Mr Kent. In fact, if you want to get anywhere in this business it's a good idea not to be like the rest.” She looked at him critically. “And I can call him whatever I damn well want. They call Hitler an enigma too, you know.” 

Kent was silent, his face almost but not quite blank. 

“Well, if that's all you're here for...” She stated coldly, turning back to her laptop. 

“Right.” Kent sat for a few seconds, then stood and Vicki watched him head towards the door. Good boy. 

“If I may ask,” he turns “what were you doing out there anyway, to see the Bat?”

Vicky narrows her eyes. “I saw a story, so I chased it. Surely even you can understand that?” 

“Saw a story?” 

“Yes, I was at the circus when the Graysons were shot. On a date with Bruce Wayne.” She smirked. He should get the idea now. She had connections, damn it. Her foot was in the door to Gotham's sparkling trust fund clique. And this guy had nothing, so he should leave. Now. 

Kent frowned. “Bruce Wayne?” 

Vicki leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Bruce Wayne” she purred. 

“Huh.” Kent left, a frown still on his face. 

\---

Batman had been drawn by the sounds of violence, the percussion of flesh against flesh and bone against bone. It was a gang riot, the street filled with writhing bodies and foul language. Batman watched from above, a wry smile slowly twisting his lips. He saw an opening in the rabble below, and leapt. He fell on top of one man, solid boots meeting an even more solid skull. The man dropped like a rock beneath him and lay still. Batman found himself nose to nose with the thug's opponent, the man's eyes wide with shock. The Bat's smile slowly turned into a toothy grin. The man turned to run, but a lightening quick gauntlet grabbed him by the back of his shirt. “Come 'ere, gorgeous. Don't you want to dance anymore?” Batman snarled. 

Another gangster beside him found enough courage to swing an iron bar at his cowled head. Batman swung the man in his grasp towards his attacker, the bar connecting with the held man's face and he went down, blood spilling from his shattered nose. “You jealous, precious?” the Bat smirked. 

A followthrough punch with his free arm connected with the bar wielder's jaw, snapping his head back audibly. “You should be, you know.” 

The half dozen other men suddenly sprang into action, the world dissolving into fists and boots and pain. Batman struck, blocked, kicked, whirled and punched. “I'm the goddamn Batman.” His opponents were slow and heavy handed, barely even touching him. “Haven't you heard? I'm a fucking enigma!” He started to laugh. 

There were only two still standing when his fist suddenly stopped in mid-air, pain radiating through his arm like sunlight. His vision swum red and yellow, then resolved itself into an all too familiar motif. Superman. He stood inbetween Batman and his victim, arms crossed imperiously over that expansive chest, which had blocked the Bat's last punch. Batman snarled, all teeth. Superman did not respond, just kept his solid blue eyes locked on Batman's. “Get out of my way, flyboy.” the Bat spat. 

“This is enough.” he responded calmly. The remaining gangsters got the hint and fled for their lives, never looking back. 

“I said move!” Batman sidestepped left, then right, but his movements were matched exactly. The fist he throw at that smugly impervious face was blocked too. 

“Enough.” Superman repeated. “We warned you, but you wouldn't listen.” 

Batman didn't reply, face unreadable even underneath the cowl. He resisted the urge to hold his injured hand. 

“I was willing to let it all pass, until you took the child.” 

Batman snorted. “And who are you, to judge me? You don't have the right. Or the balls.”

Superman's eyes narrowed. “I have more than you know... Mr. Wayne.” 

Black leather gloves creaked as fingers curled into tight fists. 

“So please, release the boy and stop this. There are other ways.” 

Batman was perfectly still, only his heartbeat betraying him. 

Superman watched him warily, tension in every line of his body. 

Watching.

Waiting.

The attack was swift. Batman leapt forward, then dodged right underneath grasping fists, reaching for the leadlined pouch at his belt. He felt the brush of air just over his head from arms too fast to see. He was half a second from getting the kryptonite from his belt when the second blow caught his across his ribs, driving air from his lungs. He staggered, and another blow to his shoulder sent him bonelessly to the ground. He heard something crack, and his arm stopped responding. He lay silently on his back, clutching his broken shoulder and vainly trying to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the bright figure standing above him. 

The cold, impassive mask had slipped from Superman's face, and his eyes were burning with something Batman couldn't entirely place. Hate, but not aimed at him. And fear. And... regret? 

“Why did it have to come to this?” Superman spoke quietly. “Why couldn't you just...” he trailed off into a sigh. “I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne.” His eyes went cold again and he reached down with one large hand, aiming for his throat... 

“No!” A red form leapt out of the darkness and latched on to Superman's arm, white-lensed eyes wide. Superman paused for a second, and it was all Batman needed to roll to his feet and retrieve the Kryptonite from his belt. 

Superman visibly writhed at the sudden exposure. He backed away, dropping to his knees after a few steps. Robin, still clinging to his arm, was carried with him. 

“Richard, isn't it?” Superman mumbled softly, drawing him closer with his other arm. “Are you okay?” 

Robin looked up, meeting his eyes, still breathing desperately from his attack. They sat, eye to eye for a few seconds, then the boy spat in his face, following it swiftly by a strong right hook. “I'm Robin!” A flurry of kicks and punches set him free from Superman's weakened arms and he ran to Batman's side, who stood smugly watching the whole exchange. 

Superman eyed them both, from his position on the ground. Batman idly played with the Kryptonite in his hand. 

Batman smirked. “Now that's enigmatic.” 

Superman struggled to his feet, testing his strength, into a ready combat stance. “Please, let the boy go.” 

“Do you see a leash on him? He is free. He'll never be more free.” Robin straightened beside him, pride clear on his young face. 

Superman exhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders, like he still wanted to fight. But his eyes kept slipping to the boy standing within the fall of the black cape. Suddenly, the power drained from his form, shoulders drooping and head falling forward. 

“If you ever need anything, Richard, you know all you have to do is ask.” he spoke softly, looking at the boy. 

Robin rolled his eyes, the motion visible even behind his mask, and turned and strode away. Batman followed, dark cape swirling. They vanished into the shadows almost immediately and Superman soon felt the nausea and weakness of the poisonous rock drain away. He heard someone approach from behind him, turning to find Wonder Woman standing behind him, nose wrinkled in distaste. She hated Gotham. She looked him up and down, but remained silent. Superman opened his mouth to break the silence when she interrupted him with a slap across the cheek. It stung. 

“I knew you wouldn't go through with it.” 

She turned and away, the click of her high heels the filling the street. 

Superman closed his eyes and sighed.


End file.
